


So Why So Sad (Absolutely Perfect), ch. 10

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-07-17
Updated: 2008-07-17
Packaged: 2018-11-20 20:30:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11342664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived atThe Basement, which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address onThe Basement's collection profile.





	So Why So Sad (Absolutely Perfect), ch. 10

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

So Why So Sad (Absolutely Perfect), ch. 10

## So Why So Sad (Absolutely Perfect), ch. 10

### by Griva

##### [Story Headers]

  


Chapter 10  
Beta'd by bardsmaid. Krycek owes you, Susan! Rating: R overall 

Sunday   
21.25 pm 

It wasn't much past nine, the street was completely deserted. No doubt the few righteous folks of Charity were glued to the idiot boxes or spooned snugly in their safe little beds. 

Beside him, Dean was frowning. They'd barely gotten a few hundred feet out of Da Lucia when the unnerving silence was interrupted by a vibration and a short beep of Alex's cell phone. Without slowing his steps, Alex slipped it out and glanced at the blinking display. 

W.L., the display read. So, Lucas Weber. It had been a while. If Alex lived into his 50s, he could become like Lucas: a mover and shaker at a distance from the streets, more paranoid, but much less in need of walking among and fucking real people once in a while. Lucas traveled around the country in a bullet-proof luxury train compartment. Alex had seen his face only once, on a webcam, and briefly at that. At least the voice was always the same when Lucas placed a call, or Alex would be seriously rattled. 

Lucas was a middleman, passing out assignments of various level of difficulty to a select number of semi-legal and illegal professionals. If the client could afford to pay the price and Lucas' commission on top of it, a lot could pass through his hands. With Spender dead and no candidate eager or powerful enough to step into his place, Lucas was Alex's best option for making a quick buck. At first, Alex had been a little reluctant to agree to work with the man, and more than a little curious about the reasons for Lucas' secrecy. But eventually he gave in to his terms; Lucas knew a lot of important people, and Alex knew what most of those people wanted and needed. Besides, with Lucas Alex could say "no" and walk away if he chose. 

Alex caught Dean by the elbow, nodding to him to wait. 

"Alex, boy." Lucas had a soft, accented voice of a man whose truth had always been hidden between the lines. "You got a minute?" 

"Yeah." 

Dean looked up quickly, his eyes narrowing with attention. 

There was a crackle on the line as Eyes Only's security system spliced into the connection. Alex already had a scrambler, but Lucas always had two. Alex wondered whether they dismantled the railway tracks after Lucas passed over them, to cover his trail. 

"How are you doing, Alex?" Lucas had a compulsion to add his name to every sentence. Maybe it was his idea of a "personalized" approach. 

"Still alive," Alex replied, a shade of irritation under the even, low voice. It was his standard reply to the question. No one really cared about how he was doing, just what he was up to. The corner of Dean's mouth lifted in a now-familiar smirk. With Dean within earshot, Alex was extremely conscious of his words, more than a bit uneasy, but he tried not to let it show. 

"I might have a lucrative offer for you, Alex." 

"Such as?" 

"A client of mine suspects he has an inside leak, apparently from a recruit." 

"So they need an insider to expose their snitch?" 

"No. They need someone to clean up the mess." 

"I'm not a cleaner," Alex answered sharply. It felt good to remind himself he had a different reputation. 

Dean was rocking slightly on the balls of his feet, his eyes roaming across the wet trees and deserted parking lot, but he seemed to be listening with his whole body. Alex switched the phone to his other ear, the sharp huff of his breath a signal to Lucas to cut the runaround crap. 

"I know you're good, Alex, a professional with a wide range of talents." 

Alex could sense the man grinning like a cheetah on the other end. 

"They're capable of finding the suspect themselves. But to take him out, they'd need an outsider...with a specific expertise, if the suspect turns out to be"-- Lucas paused meaningfully --"not exactly human." 

No shit. A bounty hunter? No way; they're no good at espionage. You've gotta be more human than just skin-deep for that. So it must be a clone. But where there was one, there'd be a whole pack. Alex bit the inside of his cheek. That must mean someone had revived the mass breeding again. Did it mean the Rebellion was starting from scratch again, taking advantage of the moment the Syndicate was disorganized and without a leader? But they didn't stand a chance. The Syndicate controlled vast resources, funds, the army...the media. Unless... someone intended to turn the Rebellion into the New Syndicate. But who? That was the $64,000 question. 

"Anything else? Anyone...I know?" He couldn't resist asking, though Lucas would never mention names over the phone. 

"Not anyone I knew before." Lucas replied, slowly, measuring every letter. "But he didn't even haggle over the price. He's clearly in need of your experience." 

He? It was at least something to start with. 

"I'd rather he needed my expertise." It didn't make him feel comfortable to think Lucas knew more of his personal experiences than it was common knowledge to a very, very limited number of persons. It was all Lucas' tricks, to make you twitch, make you slip, make you show you were bothered. 

"Is that a clear "yes", Alex?" 

"Yeah, clear. It's urgent?" Nothing was clear except that someone had placed a hit on some thing that he thought didn't even exist any more. And that someone wanted him in particular, but who could that be? 

Alex turned, giving Dean a look from under his lashes. Dean made an OK sign. The still and waiting way he was holding himself said he was anything but. 

"Are you just thinking, Alex? Or am I...interrupting something private?" Lucas' voice was thick with sarcasm. 

"No. But I'm outside." 

"I see. Hope it's not chilly where you are." 

Alex took a deeper breath at that, betraying his impatience. Any more of this and he'd start to suspect that Lucas was interested in him personally. He could dig that. 

"What matters now is where I need to go." 

At this Dean's nonchalant mask slipped; his mouth opened slightly in interest. Alex started walking slowly down the road, circling the pools of rainwater. Dean followed in his steps. 

"Head east. I'll give you pointers within a few days when I pass the client your acceptance. Take your time. While you can." 

"Thanks." Alex allowed his voice to drop a notch. He appreciated the care. 

"Chao," Lucas drawled and disconnected. 

Alex looked at the dimming display as he fingered his lower lip, brooding. 

It took a five-count for Dean's patience bubble to burst. "So...change of plans?" he asked. 

For a moment, he sounded far away to Alex. Alex shrugged vaguely, his attention diverted. Possible combinations of power figures, alliances, schemes were already taking shape, like new stars forming from dust clouds in the murky vastness of the universe that was his mind. 

"Could be. Interesting." 

"Interesting good...or interesting bad?" Dean had learned very quickly that you could get Alex Krycek talking; you just had to ask the correct questions. And be able to ask them again after a punch or a long stretch of icy, stubborn silence. 

"Maybe both." Krycek shrugged, slightly annoyed. He needed to focus, to come up with a plan-- fast--that had a slot for Dean as his companion. At the first glance, Dean lacked finesse. Counting on him to play the subtle waiting game could be a recipe for disaster. 

"Snitches and insiders...where? You're not a cleaner? Is that...what I think it is?" Dean scowled, his voice growing loud. "So that's your precious expertise?" 

"Everybody's got something they're good at." Alex kept on walking, eyes fixed on the wet strip of pavement. Let Dean make whatever he wanted of that. 

They were barely a hundred feet past the corner, on a better road but with few streetlamps, when Dean gripped Alex by the elbow, stalling his stride. 

"Do you ever give a straight answer?" 

Alex reacted before his mind caught up, shoving away the touch he didn't want, twisting his arm out, the other free one rising to push Dean away, in the chest. 

"Do you ever ask a question that doesn't start with 'you'?" 

"All that "the less you know, the better" dogcrap again! Quit jerking me around, already! I just want to know"--Dean made a cutting, frustrated gesture with his hand--"that you...don't just kill people." 

"I do...what I choose to. All kinds of things. I already told you!" Alex said slowly, crossed his hands on his chest. Silence. They stared at each other. Dean was waiting for more. 

He wouldn't be getting anything more tonight. 

Dean must be kidding him. After all Alex had said and hinted at, was Dean na?ve enough to think he never had to? 

"They were all bad, right? Or it was self-defense?" 

Alex nodded, worked to hold his anger in check. Dean hadn't said it with scorn. Apparently he was trying to make room for murder in his moral code. 

Dean folded his arms on his chest too, looked away, then back at Alex, as if between these two looks something fundamental could change within Alex. 

Alex spotted a bench within a few feet. Must have been a bus stop before, but the sign was gone. There their argument would be less conspicuous. 

"Come here," Alex motioned. Briefly, he wondered if not having his gun made Dean feel as edgy as it did himself right now. 

After a short pause of indecision, Alex went for a test shot. He could always write it off later as a joke. 

"What if some of them weren't even human?" 

"How's that?" Squinting as if against light, aggravated, Dean bit on his lip. What other species of "non human" could there be except ghosts and demons? 

"You ever saw Aliens?" 

Dean leaned closer to Alex and spoke in a hushed voice he must have used on his little brother when he was seven years old and had just watched ET. "No one's seen aliens. They don't exist." 

Alex laughed hoarsely. Not a mean laugh. Amused. How could it be, both of them having witnessed the paranormal and supernatural, but refusing to believe each other without tangible proof? 

"What if I could prove they exist?" 

Dean's face immediately switched from puzzled to alarmed, the way it had the other night when Alex had proved he wasn't a luck-eater. He was probably going through his short list of mental disorders to find one that fit Alex. 

"So...aliens? Like...little green men with shriveled bodies and plate-sized peepers? Talking funny...like Yoda? Or the kind they mention in the X Files?" 

Alex felt a chill rush down his back. He snorted, which sounded unnatural to his ears. Just like his voice, clinched tight. 

"What files?" 

Dean gave him a long look, studying him. Alex felt heat rise in his face. 

"Never mind. Just something I read about somewhere..." 

Alex was too fazed to say anything for a moment. 

But obviously Dean had taken his puzzled silence as a sign of him plotting some sort of trick. His hands clenched on each other and he shook his head, as if he still could not believe the obvious. 

"Now you're fucking with my head again? You enjoy it every way you get it!" 

"That's not my kind of game." Alex's voice sank to a rough whisper. "I haven't even started playing games yet," he added, pinching the bridge of his nose, focusing. Why was it always like this? He tried to feed them truth in pieces, but they'd question his sincerity because they could never wrap their minds around the truth. The real Truth. The result being that he always turned out to be the traitorous, lying bastard. Well, he didn't have to prove himself right. He never did it for Mulder, he wasn't even going to try for Dean. He knew when he was lying and when he wasn't, and that was good enough. 

"That's bullshit!" Dean ran his hand through his hair, over his face. "Why do I feel like I've gambled nothing and lost everything?" 

"Yeah, why is that?" Alex shot back. Anger and confusion added something to Dean's exquisite features that made him react involuntarily with his lower brain. 

"You don't need to cover your ass. You work alone." Worry lines stood out on Dean's face. "So the way I see it... While the bootie bump is new, we're pals. Then one fine day you set me up for some freaky shit and watch me fade into the sunset, end of story." 

Dean's face was too close, his eyes narrowed and incisors showing. Alex felt the hot puffs of air hit his face as Dean breathed. The kid was trying to look intimidating, but there was a vulnerable streak to his expression. Alex drew back slightly, until there was a safe distance between them. 

He felt his food rising uncomfortably high in his throat. He could justify anything he'd done and would do, but rarely was he made to feel uncomfortable by the reminder of the times he had wiggled out of guilt. To buy some time, Alex looked at his watch. It hadn't even been 24 hrs since he met Dean, and they were already into matters of trust and little green men. 

And Dean expected same sincerity in return. Trusted him, basing this trust on the facts that Alex himself would never ever trust anyone without learning more. 

"So...you want me draw up a contract and sign it with my blood?" Alex looked away briefly, cleared his throat, then raised his eyes slowly back at Dean. 

"That could be one way to do it," Dean answered, and Alex could not tell if he meant it. 

"A kids' way. I warned you, once you're in with me, you're out when I tell you! I have no desire to"--Alex stopped himself before he said "screw you," because that would be an obvious lie--"to set you up, unless you bring it on yourself. So stop whining and suck it up!" It took Alex some effort to make his voice sound unconcerned, commanding; make his features freeze. He only ordered people around who he considered inferior, and Dean wasn't one of them. 

Dean's face was hard, his eyes dangerously dark as they crossed looks. "I'm not your dog!" Dean's nostrils flared as he cut, but he was the first to look away under Alex's unflinching stare. 

Oh no. You're just a cute pup. With a potential. Don't give me more reasons to slap you around. Takes the spark out of our arrangement. 

Alex let his own back relax, fists uncurl. 

"You have to learn to wait," he said, his voice returning to normal. "I'll tell you what to do and why when the right time comes. If you can't handle it, leave the wheels and take off. Now." For a brief moment he considered just writing down the debt. But it wasn't his way. Obviously, it wasn't what Dean would expect or accept from him. 

"Now I'm not going anywhere." 

Dean's voice betrayed an inner struggle, but purpose was etched on his face. Dean wasn't just tagging along because he was afraid to lose the car. There were more issues wound up in there. Alex liked his stubborn determination. 

When Dean spoke again, his voice was controlled and even, as if the confrontation had never happened. 

,,So... the deal is," Dean said, his voice controlled once again, "I'll show you demons, you'll show me aliens?" He kept looking at the broken fence of the house across the street rather than at his companion. 

Alex quirked his brow. Dean had just given him an idea. "Why not?" he said smoothly. "You summon me a demon, you're out of the doghouse." 

Dean glanced toward Alex, blinked, opened his mouth, then reconsidered. Thought again, and finally turned to fully face Alex. 

"Listen, I can't summon you a demon. You can't flirt with evil." 

He sounded so damn serious. 

"Conditions, conditions..." Alex sighed. What had he expected? 

"You summon a demon, she comes because you have something they want. They're after your soul. It's a deal you can't back out of," Dean explained in a tone an adult would use to explain to a child that you should never stick your finger in an electrical socket. 

Alex snorted. "She?" 

Dean shrugged. "Most of the ones I've seen have had boobs." 

It was pointless to argue. Alex rubbed his mouth and swallowed another smirk. What mattered was that they seemed to have discharged the uneasy tension quickly. "Ok. Not a demon. A genie. A ... pixie. Small and nasty?" 

"I'll see what I can do." Dean rubbed his hands together and brought them to his mouth, blowing air to warm them up. The temperature was dropping rapidly. Overnight the pools of water will ice over. 

Alex thought it best to drop the subject. Dean didn't sound exactly sure of his promise. Maybe he couldn't "hunt" or do any of the funky shit he'd bragged about alone. 

"Let's go now," Alex motioned. 

The bench was wet. He pulled on his gloves, Dean stuffed his hands in his pockets. 

They made the rest of the five minute walk back in silence. It took another fifteen for Alex to drop off his rental car and pick up his staff. 

"Whoa. She's a big baby," Alex touched the shiny rearview mirror as he stood in front of the Impala. It really was a big old honking muscle car. 

"Hey, be careful where you touch it," Dean pointed out in a voice of proud owner, obviously relaxed on a safer territory. It was remarkable how quickly Dean's face and posture snapped back to a convincing approximation of his usual swaggering manner. Maybe what Dean needed was some time to adapt himself to Alex's needs. And a few pointers. 

Alex had a small backpack in which he had things that he wouldn't let out of his sight, like his laptop, two of his "working" guns, and a first aid kit. In a duffel bag he kept other traveling essentials. Dean pointed out that Alex could put his stuff on the backseat. Alex hesitated, instantly suspicious. 

"This baby's got back big enough to cover for a mass murder." He threw his arms wide, measuring the trunk. 

Dean propped himself against the car's rear wing. Then sighed, resigned. 

"I have no choice, right? Or else you'll wait till I'm asleep and break in?" 

Alex nodded and gave him two thumbs up. Quick learner. 

Dean scowled at that. 

"You break her in, I'll break your leg!" 

"Oh...Break her in?" Alex could not help but leer. "I suppose... she's the only virgin that's safe around you?" 

Dean tried to suppress the wide grin. When he flung the trunk open, Alex's jaw hit the floor and he made no effort to conceal it. The trunk was double. There was a white pentagram on top of the inner trunk, and on the bottom of it... It was...an armory. 

"Fuck me sideways!" Alex mumbled under his breath as he leaned in to survey its contents. 

Alex couldn't even identify some of the devices in the semi-darkness; they looked like something out of medieval manuscripts. Or maybe Resident Evil set props. "Did I miss a war?" 

Or maybe I've finally met the "right" guy for a ride? Only now did he start to give a serious credence to Dean's tales of hunting. Real hunting, with trophies and blood and the icy breath of death on your neck, not the kind of futile goose chases he knew all too well. He liked the guy more by the second, the whole package. Even if this was the worst timing possible. 

And Dean tried to say he had a moral issue with murder? Another Colt, identical to the one Dean had left in the room, glimmered dully at him. This is what you killed people with, not fairies. Dean was lucky to have never encountered the human monsters of Consortium caliber. They usually made you reconsider your moral code quickly. 

Dean's smug grin and hands-on-hips posture spoke volumes of self-confidence restored as Alex raised his eyes back to him. 

"I've seen things that would put Jeepers Creepers makers to shame." 

Whatever. Given the chance, you'll be part of the Body Snatchers Secret TV reality show. 

"You have a use for a crossbow?" Alex pointed at a device that "looked" like a crossbow, but was smaller. "Can you shoot one?" 

Dean nodded. Alex hadn't expected the sight of Dean holding a crossbow to give his cock a painful twitch. He bit his lip. 

Several empty compartments gaped at Alex. He didn't ask Dean where the missing stuff was, with the kid being so hard up for cash. 

"What's in there?" Dean nodded to Alex's luggage. 

"Necessities." Alex shrugged. 

Dean issued the already familiar "whatever, dude" grimace. 

"So?" Dean jingled the car keys in his fingers, raising a brow in question. 

Somewhat reluctantly, Alex closed the trunk, "You gonna give me a lift." 

The prospect of going somewhere--anywhere--brought a visible lift to Dean's expression. 

"Really? To where?" 

"To D.C." 

"Oh. Seeing as we're in Illinois, that's close to a thousand miles." 

"You've ever been there?" 

"No." As if Alex might change his mind, Dean hastened to add, "But I've been all around the Bible Belt, I know every back road and country lane. You want to take the highway or stay ... a little lower profile on the scenic route?" 

"We'll see how it goes. I'm going to make a few calls...do some...research." Alex huffed out a breath. "You said you wanted to make a few stops, pick up some quick money?" 

Dean nodded slowly. Alex cocked his head, thinking. Lucas had given him a week. It wasn't always smart to appear overeager and show up right away. His experience was that once a demand for him appeared, the opposing party might try to contact him, too. He was known as a double dealer, but in these circles this wasn't considered a vice, but smart business. 

"What's waiting for you in D.C.?" Dean asked. "Aliens?" 

"Maybe." Alex shrugged. "They don't tell me everything at once." Alex leaned against the Impala's bumper, ignoring the obvious needling. 

Dean nodded as if he understood. "How soon do you have to be there? There are...planes, you know." 

Alex shook his head slowly. Oh, no. He had a really good reason to take his time. 

He had a few extra days to find out what else Dean might be good for. Beyond the obvious. Once triggered, his thoughts ran freely with ideas of how to work Dean into possible future schemes. There were always basic tasks that came with big risks: scouting locations, making first contacts, keeping an eye on targets 24/7. Dean would do just fine for that. And he wouldn't have to worry about him, as he did on rare occasion, with Mulder. Dean didn't seem like the kind of guy who took an easy bait or who dropped guns. Except when he was out of luck. 

And he hardly cared if someone caught on that there was more going on between them. He was only in danger when he'd fucked someone from the "enemy camp" or one of Consortium's team. Dean was neither, which made it relatively safe. Especially for Dean. 

"So you're satisfied now?" Alex asked, not without a drop of irony. 

Dean turned around and shot him a look hard enough to cut diamonds. Oh yeah. Mr Cool had returned. Mister I-don't-give-a-fuck. 

Mister Hot as Shit had never left. 

Krycek smiled. It threw Dean off a bit. 

"Happy as a clam," Dean's voice dropped into the low "just try and take me, make me, fuck me if you can" register that showed more challenge than satisfaction. But his pose was relaxed enough. His fingers moved on the roof of the car as if he were smoothing out an invisible crinkle. 

The temptation to tell him, to confess the whole terrifying truth of what he might be needed for again, to have someone else who would actually believe--and Alex had no doubts that Dean would believe once he came up with some alien artifact or a body-- seized Alex without warning and clenched in his chest. 

"Dean--" 

But in the split second it took Dean to look up, he saw how it would play out. It would be a relief to tell someone he was venturing into the unknown again. To have an ally, even temporarily. He knew with certainty that a shared secret would bind Dean to him a significant way, but instinct told him that Dean might not take it so smoothly, not while his heart was not in it. Where his heart was...well, Alex would have to find that out before trusting him with anything more serious than sitting behind the wheel of a car and sharing a bed. Which might not happen as soon as Alex would like it to. Keeping his appreciation for Dean's body in his mind--and out of his hands--could be useful for the time being. Until Alex could feel him out a bit better, so to speak. 

Dean was waiting now, a question in his arched brows. "We're not gonna get...weird, or anything, about this. Any of this. Are we?" he said when he realized that Alex wasn't going to voice what he was thinking. 

Krycek looked at him from under his lashes. He had a few ideas of what "weird" might mean Dean Winchester style. He was careful voicing his guesses this time. 

"Me and you? Doing some crosscountry traveling?" He looked at Dean pointedly, caught himself licking his lips. The other man was all dark colors and heavy lines, watching him from under his brows, head propped on his arm. "Course not, man. Nothing weird about it. Right?" 

"Something like that." Dean nodded, as if that settled it. His hands moved to lock the car. He was heaving a sigh, shaking his head slightly, as if he was having an argument with himself. 

Alex ran his hand along the Impala's wing, collecting rainwater. Brought his hand to his face, stopped half way, shook his hand. The urge to confide in Dean was just a momentary weakness, a wavering. He wiped the wet gloved hand on his thigh. He was rebuilding the man he had to be. 

Or the man everyone expected him to be. He wanted to learn Dean's secrets, not share his pain. Wanted to get deeper into this perfectly sculpted, obviously haunted head while maintaining his own cool. And maybe this was an instance where he'd actually succeed. 

"So...what do you measure with a Kinsey ruler?" Dean asked, as he flung open the room's door for Alex. 

/tbc   
/end of book one

  
 

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Title:   **So Why So Sad (Absolutely Perfect), ch. 10**   
Author:  Griva   [email/website]   
Details:   **Work-In-Progress**  |  **R**  |  **25k**  |  **07/17/08**   
Pairings:  Crossover Pairing  |  Alex Krycek / Dean Winchester   
Category:  Story, AU (Alternate Universe)  |  X Files / Supernatural   
  
  
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